Nightcap
by jstar1382
Summary: Rough case. Long day. It's just a little nightcap among friends. Mid S4 AU. Prompt fill for the #GoodLuckStana prompt challenge. Cover art by the talented E (random-ship)


_Prompt filled for #GoodLuckStana - prompt included at the end._

* * *

 ** _Nightcap_**

* * *

 _Rough case. Long day. It's just a little nightcap among friends. Mid S4 AU_

* * *

"Castle, what are we doing down here?"

Her steps are sluggish, stomping behind him, down to his basement office where Castle insisted they move their nightcap.

Sure, the Old Haunt was busier than usual, but she was perfectly fine drinking upstairs. She was easing her mind by watching the patrons and listening to the piano. But she noticed Castle's mood shift after their third shot when the tall, blond, thirty-something perched on a bar stool not far from them.

"You've had a rough day and if that guy kept staring at you as you downed your tequila shots…I was going to have to -"

She smiles at his obvious jealousy as she wanders through the room, touching a couple knick-knacks that decorate the shelf before drifting toward the large, antique desk in the center of the room. " _Aww_. Trying to start a fight in your own bar?"

"Of course not. That's what the bouncers are for," he chuckles, pouring them both another shot glass full of the clear liquid he snagged from behind the bar.

Jose Cuervo Silver isn't her usual drink of choice but it's doing the job tonight. Taking the edge off the day and leaving her warm and loose as she sinks into the worn leather of his desk chair, casually crossing her legs and watching the flare of heat ignite behind his eyes.

Neither of them are drunk, but they're not quite sober.

Just pleasantly buzzing.

She lifts the glass to her lips, foregoing the salt this time, and swallows it in one gulp. "I needed this," she rasps against the burn from the alcohol.

"Drinking tequila shots in my office?" He smirks, sprinkling salt on his hand, before he licks and takes his own shot. Her eyes can't help but watch the way his throat moves from the action.

Distracting.

"Relaxing," she corrects her thoughts. "But tequila does the trick."

"I knew Nikki and Rook did tequila shots for a reason."

Her thoughts flash to that scene – _page 105_ \- and her skin flushes, imagining them in the roles.

Wow.

Stop.

"One, we are not doing body shots." She reminds him as well as herself, but he doesn't need to know that. "And two, this is going to be my last one because I don't plan on getting wasted."

"Party pooper."

He pours them two more and hands her one, his fingertips brushing innocently over the top of her skin, but her thoughts are already heading in not so innocent places.

"No. We just don't need to get to the point where we're so drunk we pass out together on that little couch over there. Right?" The question leaves her mouth before completely thinking it through. She groans, seeing him quirk his eyebrow. "Don't answer that."

"You, me, and that couch. Does have a nice ring to it."

" _Pervert._ " She laughs, poking at his side.

"Hey, that tickles."

"Well you deserve it." She downs her final shot, swatting at his hand that's headed for her waist before easing from the chair to put some distance between them. "Watch it." She smirks over her shoulder, practically daring him to follow.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Detective," he teases, emptying his shot glass and setting it on the desk, stalking after her like she's prey. "You tickle me. I tickle you. Fair is fair."

"I didn't realize there were rules to that." She bites down on her lip, holding back her smile. Maybe she's a little past buzzed, on her way to tipsy, but she doesn't care. She's having fun with her best friend, ignoring the world's problems for the night.

She deserves it.

They both do.

Beckett turns to find him standing directly behind – far closer than usual and it sends her mind reeling.

To hell with it.

She reaches forward, digs her fingers into his side again and an immediate yelp flies from his mouth. His eyes narrow on her, the vibrant blue of his irises darkening to a shade she's not familiar with.

Castle disguises the look quickly, focus shifting to her hand, catching her wrist upon its retreat from his side.

"You're asking for it."

They're playing with fire.

She knows it and he knows it by the dangerous clench of his jaw. Their carefully constructed boundaries are being crossed, but she can't bring herself to worry about it. Not when she can feel the warmth of his body nearing hers with an expression on his face that can only be described as predatory. She tries to wiggle out of his hold, but it only gives him an opportunity to sneak his fingers underneath her ribs, tickling her in the spot that no one knows about.

Of course he finds it.

She's panting for air as their limbs are tangling in an all out war. Poking and prodding while barely getting a word out between the laughs and squeals.

Somehow their legs get twisted when she tries to free herself from his hold and they end up stumbling back, falling onto the sofa. She's truly at his mercy now. The delicious weight of his body is practically crushing her while his hands are unrelenting in their pursuit to win this childlike assault.

"Castle –" she gasps between laughs. "Castle, I can't breathe."

His hands freeze immediately, one palm grazing her hip and the other moving to brace his weight against the leather of the cushion. Her eyes dart up to meet his, seeing the concern dawning in his expression, and he starts to pull away, their happy bubble about to burst. But she stops him, reaching forward to comb her fingers at the base of his neck, lightly playing with his hair, before guiding his face closer to hers.

"Beckett?"

"Hmm?" Her nose brushes against his, a soft Eskimo kiss on his skin, but she wants more.

She can't blame liquid courage.

It's him. His presence. His friendship. His laughter.

She's so tired of waiting.

All it takes is a slight twist and she's pressing her lips to his mouth. The action is gentle at first, hesitant, but soon takes on a life of its own, in a delicate dance that is the culmination of years in the making. He tastes like salt and tequila and happiness.

Kissing him is far more intoxicating than any drink could ever be and she's already addicted.

They break apart all too soon. Her vision's hazy and she quickly hides her face in the crook of his neck, suddenly shy, not regretting the move, but unable to believe it happened.

She can't think of the right thing to say. Is there protocol for what to do after a make out session with your partner?

Her head is spinning and she gasps for air.

"Is it safe to say I take your breath away, Beckett?" he asks, chuckling as he speaks.

She groans at his cheesy line and playfully smacks his arm in response and just like that, he eases her mind.

They're still them, but better. She can't wipe the smile from her face because there's truth in his words.

He does take her breath away.

* * *

 **Prompt: "S4 Caskett, Beckett can't breathe" - prompted by senseofsongs ( at senseofsongs on twitter ) and filled as a gift for a generous contribution to support dot chla dot org slash pages slash goodluckstana.**


End file.
